


And in my bones I feel the warmth that's coming from inside

by CaptainAwesome242



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Christmas Eve, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Family, First Christmas, Friendship, Gen, Natasha Romanov Feels, POV Natasha Romanov, What Happened in Budapest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 05:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainAwesome242/pseuds/CaptainAwesome242
Summary: The specific dates didn’t matter to her beyond the mission; she didn’t celebrate birthdays or holidays or occasions, which is why it hadn’t really registered with her that it had approached Christmas.~~~Natasha experiences her first Christmas as part of a family





	And in my bones I feel the warmth that's coming from inside

**Author's Note:**

> Never written a Christmas fic before, nor have I written any of these characters before so here goes nothing.
> 
> This is just a little plot idea that came from nowhere that I wrote in a day - it turned out slightly better than I hoped so hope you all like it.
> 
> Title taken from What’s This? in The Nightmare Before Christmas, written by Danny Elfman

Natasha kept walking.

One foot in front of the other.

She had to keep going.

Left, right, left, right, left, right.

If she stopped she’d never make it.

She hissed through clenched teeth as an uneven step jostled her injury sending shafts of pain stabbing through her. She clamped her hand down harder on the wound, feeling the blood oozing through her fingers and catching on the waistband of her pants, the fabric sodden.

Natasha felt leeched of energy. She imagined it draining from her like the blood from her side.

No. She couldn’t think like that. She had to keep moving.

Left, right, left, right.

It wasn’t far now.

She’d been on a mission, had been for the last few months, deep undercover, but things had gone wrong and she’d been found out. She managed to get away but not without injury. They’d be looking for her so she had to lay low, keep off the radar, and not bleed out.

A tall order, given how she swayed and staggered with each step, but there was a place she could go, and it was almost within reach.

Just a few more steps.

Left, right.

So close.

And... knock knock.

Natasha rapped the knuckles of her free hand twice against the wooden door, not hard enough as to be aggressive but loud enough to be heard.

She leaned against the wall in relief - she’d made it. Soft light streamed out from between the closed curtains of the front window so someone was home, or would be soon - even if she collapsed out here she’d be found soon enough. But the door opened before she could drop to the ground.

Clint’s guarded face peered around the door before his eyes widened in recognition, “Nat?”

“Hey Clint,” Natasha wheezed, catching the movement as he tucked a pistol into the back of his waistband.

Clint opened the door further, brow furrowing as he took in her condition, “Come in,”

Natasha eased herself from the wall and would have keeled over had Clint not caught her.

“Easy, come on,” Clint led her gently but firmly into the house, holding her up as she stumbled over the threshold, “were you followed?”

“No,” she knew he trusted her, but it was his family at stake. She didn’t blame his caution.

“Are you still under?”

“Compromised,” she suppressed a groan as Clint’s hand accidentally brushed her wound.

He looked apologetic, “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No,” said Natasha, though given how distracting the pain in her side was she wasn’t entirely certain.

As they climbed the stairs Natasha kept one hand clasped tightly over her side as Clint kept an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. She looked up as something tickled the back of her hand and saw that a long rope of tinsel was snaked around the banister. She blinked in surprise. She’d been away longer than she’d thought.

When she was on a mission the only dates she paid attention to were the key events in the timeline of the people she was tailing. The specific dates didn’t matter to her beyond the mission; she didn’t celebrate birthdays or holidays or occasions, which is why it hadn’t really registered with her that it had approached Christmas.

“Here, lay down,” Clint had led her to the bed in the guest room and Natasha sat down without hesitation. She eased herself into a reclined position, wincing as the action tugged at her wound but unable to hold back a sigh once she was finally on her back. It had been a long time since she’d even looked at anything comfortable.

Clint ducked out and returned shortly after with a medical bag slung over his shoulder, a bowl of water in one hand and a stack of towels in the other. He kicked the door shut with a bare foot and padded over.

“You with me?” He asked when he saw that she’d closed her eyes.

She hummed, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a bed,”

“How long have you been under?” Clint asked, trying to distract her as he began to clean the wound, “I haven’t seen you in a while,”

“Months. Since... July? I think,”

“You don’t normally take that long to get the job done,” he joked.

“I’m not too out of it to smack you, you know,” Natasha grumbled, eyes fluttering open. Clint chuckled.

“Oh, I’m very well aware of what you’re capable of when half conscious and bleeding out. I’ve not been the same since Budapest,” he added mournfully.

Natasha cracked a smile at the memory, “I think Budapest was good for you,”

“Good for you maybe,” Clint said, wiping his hands off on a towel before rummaging in the medical bag.

Natasha tried to see the wound from her position, “How bad is it?”

“Not as bad as it could have been. Knife, I’m guessing?”

“Hmm,”

“Yeah, it’s long but it’s not too deep. Deeper in some places but not critical, a few stitches should do it,” he readied the needle and began to sew her up.

“Ugh,” Natasha groaned as she felt the familiar pinch and tug of stitches being put in, “I always hate this part,”

“I know,” Clint said, going as quickly and comfortably as he could. In some ways though it came as a relief that she trusted him enough to admit any kind of discomfort - she’d come a long way from the woman who’d rather walk on broken bones than admit she was injured.

“Almost done,” it had taken more stitches than anticipated.

“Just make them good, I don’t want to have to do them again,”

Clint heaved a dramatic sigh, “After all this time you still don’t trust me to do perfect stitches. How many times have I patched you up now?”

“Not as many as I’ve patched you up,” Natasha countered, “remember that time in Sarajevo?”

Clint looked up sharply, “You swore you’d never mention that again,”

Natasha smirked. She had promised, but it was worth it to see his face. Besides it’s was useful to remind him she had this information, the thought of anyone else finding out that Natasha had once had to remove one of his own arrows from his backside was enough to get him to cooperate with whatever she wanted him to do. She’d never tell anyone of course, but he’d never take that chance.

“Alright, you’re done,” Clint said as he smoothed down the dressing, “anything else you need me to look at?”

Natasha did a quick stock check and came up empty, “No that’s it, thanks,”

“No problem,”

As Clint gathered up the dirty towels Natasha sat up, stomach grumbling loudly.

“When did you last eat?” Clint asked.

Natasha thought back, “Umm...?”

Clint snorted, “I’ll fix you something. You want to stay up here? The kids know you’re here so they’ll want to say hi but other than that you’ll be undisturbed,”

“I’ll come down,” Natasha decided, “I want to apologise to Laura for barging in like this, and if I’m in bed the kids tend to jump on me,”

Clint laughed fondly, “Yeah, they’re little terrors, and they’re especially excited tonight. I’ll find you a change of clothes then, you might scare them off if you come down looking like that,”

Natasha looked down at herself as he left, from the torn and bloodied shirt to the blood-soaked pants she looked a state. She shrugged in agreement.

When Clint came back he was wearing a fresh shirt and handed Natasha the bundle in his arms, “You know where the bathroom is. I put a fresh towel in there for you - don’t worry about ruining it. Come down when you’re ready,”

“Thanks,” Natasha smiled.

 

~~~

 

Once she was cleaned up she pulled on the clothes Clint had given her, starting with the boxers. She was grateful; they’d discovered from a similar occasion that she and Laura did not share the same taste in underwear, and with how she was feeling she just wanted to be comfortable. She didn’t mind wearing Clint’s underwear - they’d shared worse before.

As she pulled each item of clothing from the stack she realised that it was all Clint’s, which meant that it would all be loose and comfortable on her. She could have wept in relief as she pulled on a pair of soft navy sweatpants, a far contrast from her mission gear.

She left the hoodie unzipped over the black t-shirt that had “The Boss” printed in block capitals. With great difficulty she bent down and slid the woolly socks on.

Running her fingers through her damp hair she carefully descended the stairs, clinging on to the tinsel wrapped banister to stop herself from falling. Once the dizziness passed she carried on, sniffing the air appreciatively when she smelled something cooking.

Man, she was hungry.

Avoiding the living room where she heard Clint and his kids chattering excitedly Natasha headed straight to the kitchen.

Laura turned from the frying pan she was tending and smiled.

“Hi Nat,” she pulled her into a careful hug, “are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha said, allowing herself to be ushered to the kitchen table, “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced like this,”

“Don’t be silly,” Laura waved her apology away as she plated up the food, “it’s never a problem,”

“Thank you, but I still don’t like having to do it, especially at this time of year,” she gestured to the decorations around the room as the food was set in front of her. She dug in with gusto.

Laura shook her head and took a seat opposite the spy, a mug of tea cradled in her hands, “The more the merrier. Plus, I know the kids are excited you’re here,”

They paused their conversation to listen to the excitement that was happening in the next room. It sounded like some kind of game that involved chasing and tickling judging by the thundering of feet and the squeals and giggles. Natasha smiled wistfully, happy these kids could have a childhood full of play and excitement.

The game seemed to end shortly after the kids had teamed up against Clint.

“Alright! Alright!” he called out between spasms of laughter, “let’s not get too excited, it’s bedtime soon,”

“Awww!” Cooper lamented, “But you said we could see Aunty Nat before bed!”

“Yeah!” Lila chimed in.

“I did, and you can wait up ‘til then, but as soon as you’ve seen her then it’s up to bed,”

“But—!” Cooper started before he was cut off.

“If you’re not asleep then Santa can’t come!” Clint announced, an exaggerated worry to his tone but Natasha barely noticed. It was what he said that struck her.

She remembered Clint saying the kids were extra excited tonight but she didn’t know why, until now.

She turned to Laura, “It’s Christmas Eve,”

Laura nodded, frowning in confusion at the alarm in Natasha’s voice, “Yeah, it’s—“

“Why didn’t anybody say anything? I can’t stay here on Christmas Eve, that’s not fair,” she stood, intending to gather her things from upstairs and leave.

“No, Nat, it’s fine, really!” Laura headed her off, blocking the way.

“Laura, it’s bad enough I barged in here expecting Clint to fix me up, I’m not going to take advantage of you on Christmas Eve,”

“It’s not taking advantage, you’re welcome here,” Laura tried to pacify Natasha but the spy wasn’t having it.

However any retort she may have had died on her lips when Cooper and Lila came running in.

“Aunty Nat! Aunty Nat!”

Laura tried to catch her kids before they could hurl themselves at the injured woman, but the four and six year old were surprisingly nimble. Natasha braced herself as the pair threw their arms around her, luckily missing her wound.

“Hey guys,” she said, placing a hand on each of their heads. The hug didn’t last long before she was bombarded with questions.

“Are you okay Aunty Nat?”

“How long are you staying for?”

“Are you gonna be here for Christmas?”

“Yes! Yes! Aunty Nat, stay for Christmas!”

Natasha caught Laura’s smug smile but refrained from rolling her eyes as she addressed the kids, “Well, actually—“

“Of course she will!” Clint announced from the doorway, to the delight of his children who jumped and cheered.

“Hey! Take it easy you two, remember Aunty Nat isn’t feeling well,” Laura cautioned, seeing the way Natasha’s jaw tightened.

Clint swooped in and grabbed a child under each arm, spinning once to make them laugh, “Right, you’ve seen Aunty Nat now, I think it’s bedtime,”

“Nooo!!” Came the twin chorus.

“But how is Santa going to come if you two aren’t asleep?” Laura asked.

“But... but Aunty Nat just got here!” Lila argued.

“Aunty Nat will still be here in the morning,” Laura said pointedly.

“Will you Aunty Nat?” Cooper asked.

“Pleeeeeease?” Lila begged.

“Yeah, come on Aunty Nat, pleeeease?” Clint chipped in.

Natasha was torn. She’d hoped to just slip away before the kids saw her, and before their parents could build up too much of an argument as to why she should stay. She still didn’t want to impose, but it seemed she was fighting a losing battle.

“See? All three of my children would be happy for you to stay,” Laura said fondly.

“Silly Mommy!” said Lila, giggling under Clint’s left arm, “Daddy’s not a children, he’s a Daddy!”

Cooper laughed too, “Yeah Mommy!”

Laura rolled her eyes but still smiled, “Of course, silly me. But the point still stands,” she turned to Natasha, “we’d all love for you to stay,”

Looking between all of their smiling faces Natasha felt her heart constrict with emotion. She’d never had a Christmas before, and she’d certainly never been invited to one. Well, she thought, there’s a first time for everything.

“Then I’ll stay,” she said, hoping the gratitude was clear in her voice. If the warm smile on Clint’s face was anything to go by, then he’d heard it loud and clear.

Lila and Cooper were cheering again and Clint put them down, keeping ahold of them.

“Right then,” he said, “you two need to leave some treats out for Santa and then head straight to bed, alright? It’s already way past bedtime,”

The kids looked slightly mutinous, but now that it had been resolved that Natasha would be there tomorrow and Santa would hopefully come overnight, the two were slightly were more eager to get to bed.

“I’ll get the cookies!” Lila declared, rushing to grab the box off the counter, “Mommy helped me make these earlier, do you like them Aunty Nat?”

Inside the box was a selection of different Christmas shaped cookies, each with various lines and blobs of different coloured icing. There didn’t seem to be any particular pattern or design, but they looked cute all the same.

“They look great, sweetie, I’m sure Santa is gonna love them,” Natasha said, taking the box that was teetering dangerously in the young girl’s arms.

Lila beamed, “You can have one too,”

Natasha smiled, “Thank you. Which ones do you want to leave for Santa?”

Lila hummed in thought, brows knit as her eyes flitted over the selection, “He can have... um... he can have... this one! And... um... this one!”

She picked them out carefully and placed them on the festive plate Clint had just brought over.

“Those look delicious, Squirt,” he said, “why don’t we leave him three, huh? We don’t want him to be hungry,”

Natasha threw him a look over the girl’s head but he only smiled innocently back.

“Which one do you think he’d like, Daddy?” Lila asked.

Clint stroked his chin, “Hmm... how about this one?” he pointed to a star shaped one with red and green icing on it.

“Okay,” Lila agreed, before taking it ever so carefully between her fingers and laying it down with the others, careful not to lose a single crumb.

“Alright!” Clint cheered, “Think you can take it carefully to the fireplace?”

Lila looked thoughtful, then turned to Natasha, “You can put it out, Aunty Nat,”

Natasha blinked, “But they’re your cookies, you made them especially,”

Lila considered, “What if we do it together?”

Natasha was touched. She smiled, “Sure,”

They took a side each, Natasha making sure her fingers supported the plate in case Lila didn’t have a proper hold of it. Progress was slow, but they eventually made it to the small table by the armchair and placed the plate down. Natasha stood back to watch as Lila painstakingly arranged the plate next to the glass of milk Laura had helped Cooper to prepare.

“It looks great kids,” Laura complimented, “I’m sure Santa will love it,”

“I’m positive he will,” Clint said with a grin, ignoring the elbow his wife jabbed into his ribs, “Right, Cooper here’s your stocking, Lila here’s yours, go and hang them up,”

Natasha watched on, an unfamiliar but not unwelcome warmth blossoming through her as she watched the family prepare for Christmas. The ecstatic grins on the kids faces, and the loving adoration on Clint and Laura’s. She’d never had a family, not one that she could remember, but she felt entirely privileged to be able to observe her friend’s up close. And to be considered an Aunty by the kids... the feeling was indescribable.

She took a seat on the couch, feeling both physically and emotionally exhausted.

“Alright kids, say goodnight to Daddy and Aunty Nat and off up to bed,” Laura said after the kids were taking longer than strictly necessary to hang their stockings.

Clint picked each of his children up one at a time and smothered them in kisses before they ran over to wrap their arms around Natasha’s neck.

Once Laura had herded them upstairs Clint flopped down next to Natasha, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“I always used to think that nothing could be more exhausting than a mission,”

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it,” said Natasha. 

Clint grinned, “Wouldn’t trade them for anything,”

Natasha returned the smile before it faded slightly, “You really don’t have to let me stay here you know,”

“Don’t even think about running off in the middle of the night, aside from devastating my kids on Christmas Day I really don’t think you’d make it very far,”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “I’m only staying because of your kids, if you hadn’t promised them I’d be here then I’d be gone,”

Clint sobered, “You know you’re always welcome here,”

“Of course,” said Natasha, “but it’s Christmas, I don’t want to impose on the biggest day of the year for Cooper and Lila,”

Clint chuckled, “Believe me, if anything you’ve made their Christmas even better, they adore you,”

Natasha shrugged and the pair lapsed into silence. She rested her head on the back of the couch, closing her eyes with a sigh.

“How are you feeling?” Clint asked.

“Better now, just tired,”

“Why don’t you head up?” Laura said, nudging Clint’s feet from the coffee table, “I’ve changed the sheets in the guest room and left some of Clint’s pjs out for you.”

“Thanks,” said Natasha, stifling a yawn.

“We’re just going to put the presents out and go to sleep ourselves - the kids like to be up very early,”

“Here, have a Santa cookie before you go,” Clint offered her the plate Lila had so carefully organised.

Natasha picked a tree shaped cookie with pink and white icing and took a big bite, munching happily on the surprisingly tasty treat.

“Don’t eat all of it, leave a small chunk,” Clint instructed, taking a huge bite of his own cookie.

“Why?” Natasha asked before taking another big bite.

“The chunk lets them know that Santa ate it,” said Clint, mouth full.

That made very little sense to Natasha, but she complied anyway, placing the chunk back in the plate. Clint polished his cookie off in two bites, washing it down with the milk which again he left a small amount of.

Laura sighed as her husband wiped his milk moustache on the back of his hand. She turned to Natasha, “Go and get some sleep, and don’t feel the need to get up when the kids do - they get up ridiculously early sometimes,”

Natasha nodded, knowing that once the kids were up there’d be very little chance of any more sleep and she’d be getting up anyway.

“Oh, and uh, ‘Santa’ didn’t know you’d be coming to get you any gifts so if the kids ask could you tell them he’s left them at your house?” Clint asked apologetically.

Natasha laughed, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me Santa,”

Clint chuckled with a wink before ushering her out the door, “To bed with you, Santa can’t work unless everyone is asleep,”

“Goodnight Nat!” Laura called after them.

“Night Laura,”

Natasha and Clint paused outside the guest room.

“Thank you, for everything,” she said sincerely, and quietly - she was very conscious of the children asleep next door.

“Anytime,” Clint replied, equally genuine, “I’ll check your stitches in the morning. Goodnight Nat,”

“Night Clint,”

Clint walked away but stopped at the top of the stairs, “Oh, and Nat?”

She poked her head back around the door, brows raised questioningly.

Clint smiled, “Merry Christmas,”

“Merry Christmas Clint,” Natasha answered, the words foreign on her tongue but warm in her heart. She liked them, and the feeling they brought. And as she lay in bed that night she found that for the first time, she was looking forward to Christmas Day.


End file.
